


The flowering stars, on crowns they hung

by alkjira



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dancing, F/F, Family Fluff, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Female Thorin Oakenshield, Female Thorin, Jealous Thorin, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin liked a good feast with delicious food and drink and plenty of merry making as much as the next Dwarf (unless that Dwarf happened to be Bofur or Bombur) but she did not understand why dancing had to be a part of it.</p><p>Unofficial sequel to  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/819321">and many a song</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The flowering stars, on crowns they hung

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by, [diemarysues](http://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues):
> 
> _My vote would be future fic. Like, the aftermath of some function (not necessarily in Erebor I think - maybe in the Iron Hills with Dain around!) and Bilbo is in Dwarven formal clothing and at the end of the day Thorin gets to unwrap her._

Thorin liked a good feast with delicious food and drink and plenty of merry making as much as the next Dwarf (unless that Dwarf happened to be Bofur or Bombur) but she did not understand why _dancing_ had to be a part of it.

Music was best enjoyed either when creating it yourself or when she could listen to talented people perform it.  
  
To jump about on the floor, trying not to step on anyone's toes, all the while (if the other person was of an unfortunate height) having someone's face mashed up against her chest, _that_ was _not_ enjoyable.

Unless it was Bilbo she happened to be dancing with, then it just wouldn’t be proper. And somewhat frustrating as Thorin would rather have her wife mashed up against her chest without any clothes between them, and entirely without any dancing going on.  
  
Even the dances that required more distance between its participants were awful, most being much more complicated with more steps than sense.  
  
Thorin simply did not like dancing.

Except… Thorin loved Bilbo. And watching her dance was likely the closest Thorin would ever come to love dancing, because Bilbo truly loved to dance.

Still that didn't mean that Thorin would ever volunteer to make a fool out of herself in time to music, and as such she'd stayed at the table while Bilbo danced her way through the ball.

It was possible that the royal tailors were too talented, because Thorin could hardly take her eyes off her wife, and it appeared that she was not alone in having that difficulty as Bilbo did not want for dancing partners.

The gown was Durin blue with a discrete pattern of golden oak leaves shimmering as Bilbo moved. It fitted her perfectly; clung lovingly to every curve, and the wide skirt billowed out each time she was spun around.  
  
Bilbo wore few jewels, but what use did she have for them when she sparkled brighter than any stone could. Brighter than the diamonds in the golden circlet on her brow. Brighter than even the Arkenstone as it would surely have seemed cold and pale in comparison.  
  
At the moment Bilbo was dancing with Dain and Thorin hoped, somewhat vainly, that she'd have looked as good _if_ she had been the one dancing with Bilbo.

Because they did looked good together, her wife and her cousin.

Dáin’s beard was longer than Thorin’s as she had kept hers short for all the years in exile, and his height was much more suited to Bilbo’s, being only a little taller than her.

Dáin liked dancing. Which was probably why he’d come up with this stupid idea of a ball in the first place. And he was quite good at it, gracefully leading Bilbo around the crowded room without them bumping into any of the other couples on the floor.  
  
Thorin bit the inside of her cheek.  
  
Dáin was her cousin, and married, and he had just been gifted with a son, who was the very reason for this ball. There was no reason for her to act like a fool just because Bilbo was smiling at him with her hand on his arm and the other clasped in his and-  
  
“Enjoying yourself I see,” Dís said as she collapsed in the seat next to Thorin. Her sister’s cheeks were red and her eyes sparkled brightly. “You’re supposed to have fun at feasts, Thorin.” Dís added and patted her arm.  
  
“I do not remember such a law,” Thorin murmured, stretching her neck a little as she realised that Dís’ arrival had caused her to lose sight of Bilbo and Dáin.

When she found her wife again the dance had ended and a new one was just starting. Bilbo was standing between Fíli and Kíli, both boys giving her woebegone expressions and holding out their hands to her.

Thorin snorted as Bilbo simply dragged them both into the next wave of the dance.

“I feel neglected,” Dís told the air.  
  
“Complain to your husband,” Thorin said, glancing over at her sister before turning her attention back to Bilbo, currently flailing as Kíli lifted her up in the air, Fíli doubtlessly telling her that it was all part of the dance even though no other couples were doing it.  
  
“As he’s bringing me something to drink I feel that would be rather uncharitable,” Dís said and leaned over to poke Thorin’s arm. “You know, if you were the one dancing with her you wouldn’t need to sit here and glare.”  
  
“I do not dance,” Thorin said shortly.  
  
“No you sit here and glare,” Dís sighed. “I do know that.” Looking to Thorin’s right Dís perked up and a few moments later Víli and Dáin joined them at the table.  
  
“I tried to steal your husband away,” Dáin boomed to Dís, clapping Víli enthusiastically on the shoulder. “But he would not be swayed from delivering your refreshment.”  
  
“He’ll only step on your toes anyway,” Dís teased, stroking the tips of her fingers over Víli’s hand as she accepted the goblet of wine.  
  
“They don’t call me Ironfoot for nothing,” Dáin grinned, hopping up to sit on the table next to Thorin. “How about you cousin? Your wife is already dancing and you’ve got no drink in your hand.”  
  
“No,” Thorin said and Dáin tipped his head back and laughed.  
  
“You’re very lucky ending up with that Hobbit of yours, she’s as sweet as a summer’s day that one.”  
  
 _Married_ , Thorin reminded herself. _Happily so._ Not to mention that Sedal would kill Dáin if he as much as thought about being unfaithful.  
  
“I think I have offended her Majesty,” Dáin whispered not at all quietly to Dís and Víli. “She’s glaring at me.”  
  
“Thorin!”  
  
“Ah, saved by the summer’s day,” Dáin said, pretending to wipe away a drop of sweat from his forehead.  
  
Thorin couldn’t help but smile when she saw Bilbo appearing between two dancing couples. Her hair had been neatly braided before the ball, but now; a few hours later, her curls had rebelled and were escaping to form a honey-gold burr around her head.

“Are you sure you don’t want to dance with me?” Bilbo asked, a pretty flush on her cheeks.  
  
“If I would dance with anyone it would be you,” Thorin promised, ignoring Dáin who pretended to be crying into the tablecloth over being spurned by both of his lovely cousins, and by Víli as well.  
  
“That’s a no then.” However Bilbo did not appear to be upset, smiling at Thorin as she absently tucked a few stray curls behind her ears. The curls immediately escaped as soon as she dropped her hand, and Thorin returned her wife’s smile, reaching for her, planning to try and get her to sit down for a few minutes.  
  
Instead it was Bilbo who tugged at _her_ once their fingers had tangled together.  
  
“If you don’t want to dance I thought-“ She glanced at Dáin. “Is it rude to leave now?”  
  
“Rude?” Dáin repeated, shaking his head. “No, no. You younglings run off and snog in a corner somewhere.”  
  
“I am older than you,” Thorin reminded her cousin.  
  
“And your wife would be a wee bairn had she been born a Dwarf,” Dáin told her sunnily. “Age is a flighty thing. You’re only as old as you feel.”

“I’m fifty-five,” Bilbo muttered, but did not press the matter as Thorin stood up and nodded at Dáin and Dís and Víli before offering her arm to Bilbo.  
  
“Thank you all for a lovely evening,” Bilbo smiled and began to curtsy before she remembered that as Thorin’s wife she technically outranked everyone in the room except for Thorin, and the result was a confused little bob.

“Thank you for the honour of your presence,” Dáin said and winked. “I’ll tell the servants to stay out of your rooms until you’ve been spotted at breakfast. No need to traumatise them with-“  
  
“ _Thank you_ , cousin,” Thorin interrupted.  
  
-  
  
Dáin had not been wrong though.  
  
The door had no sooner closed behind them before Thorin wrapped her arms around Bilbo’s waist, dipping her head down for the first of many kisses she hoped to get that night.  
  
Pushing herself up on her toes Bilbo wrapped her arms around Thorin’s neck, small and clever fingers creeping into Thorin’s dark hair which hung lose except for a few braids denoting her status.  
  
“Mmm,” Bilbo sighed into the kiss. “Hello, my darling.”  
  
Thorin chuckled and brushed her thumb over Bilbo’s round cheek. “Hello. Did you have a good night?”  
  
“I did indeed,” Bilbo smiled. “Everyone was really nice, and Dáin’s wife is just lovely. And their boy is adorable. No wonder they named him after you.”  
  
“Adorable am I?” Thorin asked, dark eyebrow quirking.  
  
“Very much,” Bilbo promised, stretching up to rub the tip of her little nose against Thorin’s. “Adorable, delightful, gorgeous and lovely. And wearing entirely too much clothes,” she added, tugging on the embroidered sleeve of Thorn’s gown.  
  
“As are you,” Thorin said huskily, stroking her hands up and down Bilbo's sides. “May I help with that?”  
  
“If you don’t help I’m afraid I’ll need to sleep in this thing,” Bilbo frowned. “I will never see the point in wearing things that you need help to get in and out of.”  
  
“I do,” Thorin said, gently nudging Bilbo to turn around. “This way I am rewarded after every feast I suffer through. I get to unwrap a priceless gift, beautiful beyond description and priceless beyond value.”

The dress was secured by tiny clasps all the way down the back and as she undid them Thorin made sure to press kisses to every inch of uncovered skin.  
  
“You are allowed to undress me when I wear my normal clothes,” Bilbo sighed, but it was the pleased sort of sigh and Thorin smiled and paused in her work to quickly undo the remains of Bilbo’s braids allowing her curls to cascade down her back, and removing her circlet before continuing to release her from the dress.  
  
As soon as the clasps were all undone Bilbo squirmed and tugged at her sleeves, and soon the blue and gold dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in a simple shift.  
  
As she turned around Thorin’s gaze slipped to her chest, Bilbo's nipples dark shadows underneath the sheer fabric.  
  
Noting where Thorin’s gaze had ended up Bilbo snorted and reached to pull the shift over her head.

"Now you,” she demanded.  
  
“You are not wearing any undergarments,” Thorin blinked, a little stunned.  
  
“I _was_ wearing knickers when I got dressed,” Bilbo defended. “But they kept getting bunched up beneath the fabric. It looked ridiculous.” She waved her hand towards their bedroom. “They’re in there somewhere, if you miss theeeeeem. Thorin!”  
  
Walking towards the bedroom, her naked, naughty Hobbit in her arms, Thorin shook her head.  
  
“I can’t say that I miss them.”  
  
“Put me down.”  
  
“You do not wish to rest your feet after tonight?”  
  
“My feet took me half-way across the world,” Bilbo huffed. “A little bit of dancing is haaaa-“  
  
Thorin noted with some interest how very enticing Bilbo’s breasts looked as she bounced on the bed.  
  
Huffing Bilbo blew a couple of curls out of her face and raising herself up on one elbow she levered a glare at Thorin. “Be nice or I won’t help you out of your dress.”  
  
“I’ve got daggers,” Thorin shrugged. “I can-“  
  
“Don’t you dare,” Bilbo protested. “People have worked hard to make that.”  
  
“Then I’ll be forced to leave it on,” Thorin murmured, pulling up her skirts so she could get one of her knees on the bed, crawling up to press a kiss to the inside of Bilbo’s thigh.

From there the distance was negligible to the dark blonde curls between her wife’s legs and Thorin sighed happily as she rubbed her bearded cheek against them.

She hid a smile as she heard the soft thud of Bilbo’s head hitting the mattress.  
  
“I did not eat much during the feast,” Thorin said innocently as she gently nudged Bilbo’s sweet thighs further apart. “But now I have found something irresistibly delicious.”  
  
Pressing her nose to the soft curls covering Bilbo’s mound Thorin inhaled deeply. “Yes indeed.”  
  
“You are incorrigible,” Bilbo said even as her fingers twisted in Thorin’s hair.  
  
“Adorable,” Thorin corrected. “You said so yourself.”


End file.
